The Tudors Retold
by keep calm-and-beafangirl
Summary: We all know the rhyme of Henry 8th's wives, but what if their order were scrambled? The rhyme will remain the same, but how the wives reach their fates might not be what is expected... Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1: A different beginning

"His Grace, the King!"

There was a flurry of movement as courtiers, guards and ladies in waiting stood to attention as Henry Tudor, King of England strode into the Presence Chamber at Whitehall Palace. As one, everyone bowed or curtsied humbly, all dressed in their best silks and satins as the King sat down on his canopied crimson velvet throne and stared around jovially at all the bent heads. He sought out Wolsey's scarlet cardinals robes and beckoned him over with one wave of his heavily ringed hand.

"How now, Thomas," said the King, "Hurry it up with business today, I want to go hunting before my dinner."

"As you wish your Grace, but there is the pressing need to reply to the Queens brother, the Duke of Cleves concerning the treaty against France and the gold and men you promised to aid him with."

Henry sighed deeply. How he disliked matters of state. Didn't Wolsey have enough sense to bother him with this at such a time? His Queen, Anne of Cleves was expecting their eighth child. It would hopefully go to full term this time and be the longed for son and heir to the House of Tudor. Princess Mary simply would not do. Their only issue was a useless girl and a puny one at that! Girls were incapable of political wrangling and ruling a nation, everyone knew it to be true. Henry rubbed his hands together with glee at the prospect of a boy to fill the cradle and, God willing, the throne of England in his turn.

"Oh very well," Henry finally ground out, snapping his fingers impatiently, "I will look over his proposals, but make sure he does not cheat me Thomas, everyone knows you cannot trust these Protestant Dukes!"

Wolsey forced himself to chuckle and twist his heavy jaws in a semblance of agreement for his King and placed the papers of the proposed aid in the royal hand before bowing again and walking backwards from the throne. As he turned and left the Presence Chamber with all it's unsavoury scents and multicoloured fabrics, he had to fall into a bow again as he spied the Queen coming down the corridor with several of her ladies.

Queen Anne of Cleves had come to England twenty years ago as the bride of the King's brother Arthur to cement an alliance between the Duchy of Cleves and England. France and Spain had naturally put forward their own candidates, but the miserly Henry 7th was not impressed with the dowries being offered and dismissed them as 'utter insults'. The new Protestant religion was taking hold over Europe and the miser King saw no reason not to profit from the craze. France and Spain were always double crossing everyone, including each other. What he needed was more gold to help his depleting treasury and therefore accepted the offer of 50,000 gold pieces for the opportunity to call upon the so called Protestant League to aid England if they were in need of them. The Dukes sister Anne was chosen for Arthur as a sweetener. She arrived after a month in storm tossed seas and was married to the Prince a week later. But the miser King was not impressed with Anne's looks. She was not ugly, but not exactly a beauteous prize either. Mouse brown hair and a set of rather dull blue eyes and a most hideous dress sense had not helped. The English were known for their fashionable garments and the whole court was appalled when she made her debut into court life. To top it off, she knew not a word of proper English and insisted on pointing while making the guttural sounds of her language whilst maintaining a wide grin which showed her teeth to be less than perfect. However, both Princes went out of their way to befriend her against their fathers disappointment and it seemed as though they all got on very well. After the wedding ceremony, Arthur and Anne had gone to Wales to set up their own little court as was tradition. Tragedy struck when smallpox entered the area and carried of Prince Arthur and half of their servants in just a few short days. At the death of the miser King, Henry was persuaded by his new councillors to uphold the Protestant alliance and marry the widowed Princess Anne. Twenty years later, the marriage was growing increasingly fraught as each subsequent child Anne bore died except for a daughter, Mary.

Wolsey tried not to let any of what he was reminiscing to show on his face as the Queen drew nearer. Her mousy hair had faded to grey now and there were lines on her face that made her appear older than she was and had a much fuller figure.

"Good afternoon, Cardinal," she said, giving Wolsey a nod of acknowledgment, "How is the King today?

"Madam, I am pleased to tell you that His Grace is well. He is looking over your brothers proposals as we speak. I believe he will assist him with his war with France." said Wolsey kindly.

Queen Anne put her hand to her heart and allowed herself a small smile. "Thank the Lord, Cardinal! I was so worried that the King would refuse aid. He and I are not altogether happy since the death of our last child and the Princess Mary needs to be schooled by the proper masters, but the King has refused. He says it is useless to educate a girl." Queen Anne shook her head sadly and one of her ladies in waiting offered her a scrap of lace to blow her nose on. She grasped the plain wooden crucifix that hung at her waist, turning it over and over in her fingers as though by touching it fervently, all her troubles might be erased. Wolsey noticed the gesture and his heart warmed at the sign of her comfort, even though it was contrary to his own Catholic wrought solid gold confection.

"Take heart Madam, the child you carry might be your salvation. Give the King a son and all will be well."

Queen Anne stiffened noticeably and said, "Yes. It all depends on a son does it not, Cardinal? But a man should know it is not all a women's fault if she fails to produce a boy. Perhaps this is a sign from God? Mayhap what the Lord truly desires is that a woman _will_ rule this island and run it well. But I must curtail myself, it is not a popular opinion that I speak of."

One this tart note, Queen Anne nodded again and swept away to the door of the Presence Chamber where the noise was already at fever pitch. The guards clanged their pikes as they opened the double doors for her.

"Her Grace, the Queen!"

As the ladies of her company trailed past, Wolsey caught sight of a pair of startlingly blue eyes and a riot of golden hair caught up in a jewelled snood that he had not seen before. He held out an arm to waylay her. It was his business to know everything and everyone at court. Knowledge was power after all.

"A moment mistress," he said kindly, "I have not had the pleasure of your acquaintance as yet. You serve the Queen?"

The girls full mouth curved upwards and she nodded, curtsying.

"I have that honour, Cardinal, yes. My father Sir John petitioned the Queen for a place for me, so that I may find a husband."

Wolsey searched his mind for a Sir John, but could recall none who would have a daughter.

"Your name mistress?"

The girls eyes gleamed and she stepped around Wolsey, following the Queen, her every movement elegant seduction beneath her ice blue silk gown.

"My name is Jane Seymour."


	2. Chapter 2: The hunter spots the doe

Upon seeing the Queen entering the Presence Chamber, Henry thrust aside the state papers containing his brother in laws request and stood up with his arms held out wide.

"Sweetheart!" he bellowed joyfully, his eyes coming to rest on Queen Anne's belly and fairly beaming with happiness as she climbed the dais and sat down on the smaller velvet throne to the right of the King's far grander one.

"Good day, my husband," said Queen Anne lightly as Henry proceeded to sit next to her, "I hope you have had a chance to consider my brothers request?"

Henry waved a hand dismissively, "Never mind that now my love. How fares my son today?" he said eagerly, eyes remaining on her slightly swollen midriff while the court milled around, giving the illusion of privacy.

Queen Anne bit back a sharp retort as she seethed inwardly at the lack of attention her husband seemed to be paying to foreign affairs, especially to those of her brother who was in dire need of assistance. She could barely restrain herself from slapping Henry's hand when he reached over and patted her belly fondly. Instead, Anne forced herself to smile sweetly and nod to various people in the crowded room. Finally, Henry sat back, looking very pleased and Anne seized her chance.

"Your Grace, far be it from me to meddle in matters of state, but my brother the Duke has written to me in the most emphatic terms of his need of your aid and his need really is most pressing…"

She stopped abruptly when Henry suddenly turned a closed and icy gaze towards her.

"Madam, you take too much upon yourself when you presume to remind me of my duty in foreign matters. The good Duke shall have my answer in due course. This subject is at an end." Henry rose up from his throne and everyone dropped into bows and curtsies at once. All with the exception of Jane Seymour who tarried a little too long in her duty to her King. Henry paused and in his sudden bad mood swung round to confront this breach of etiquette and instead met a pair of confident sky blue eyes and golden visage dressed in ice blue satin. With a quirk of her full lips, she finally lowered her eyes and sank into a slow curtsy.

Queen Anne watched the exchange with her heart sinking. How typical Henry was. The first sign of a pretty face and he would act like a moonstruck clod without a single thought in his head but the chase and eventual conquest. It was such a sad pattern that went on time and time again without much variation. Anne loved the King in her own way and it always smote her heart every time it happened. It was like the friendly affection between them was being slowly extinguished on the repeated desire of a King on any girl that took his fancy.

Henry mentally shook himself and stared around the Presence Chamber, surprised momentarily to see all his courtiers surrounding him. With one last look at the bent golden head, he turned and strode out, resolving to ask Wolsey who the new beauty was.

Jane raised her eyes from the shirt she was mending with amusement. German ladies really were stupidly dull. Queen Anne liked to be read to from boring old tomes in her language which grated on the ear and could not be understood by anyone except the insipid ladies that had come over with her from the Duchy of Cleves. At other times the Queen ordered German folk songs to be sung on odd little string instruments that also grated on the ear. Jane could hardly suppress a snigger as one of the old ladies quavered through what should have been a romantic ballad. She looked at the Queen who showed no sign that a alley kitten was clawing away at true love in German. Jane cleared her throat and as one, all the ladies in waiting looked up, some in obvious relief as the caterwauling stopped.

"I wonder your grace if I may venture to offer a little song?" said Jane sweetly, "I am not so sophisticated as to aspire to understand German."

If Queen Anne noticed the veiled sarcasm in the statement, she gave no sign. She merely smiled as if there would be no greater pleasure on earth and Jane went to the virginals and selected a piece. She had just played the opening notes and drawn in a breath to sing when the doors to the Queens apartments opened.

"His Grace, the King!"

Henry strode in and all but ignored the Queen except for a short bow in her general direction as his eyes sought out Jane who was still sitting at the virginals. With his hands folded almost in prayer, the King spoke to her softly, "Continue."

Throughout her song, Jane was fully aware of the King's unwavering gaze upon her. She had always known the effect she had on men. On some occasions, the effects were truly embarrassing, but with the King of England, opportunity had come knocking. Jane knew all about Henry's womanizing ways, but knew that if one played the game and did it well, power and wealth could be forthcoming.

"Very lovely, Lady Jane." said the Queen when everyone had finished clapping, none more enthusiastically than the King. "Come and sit beside me for a spell."

"No, no, Lady Jane. You must come with me for a stroll in the gardens. Little songbirds always benefit from fresh air." said Henry quickly, rising and offering a hasty bow to his wife. "You can spare Lady Jane for a while my love, can't you?"

Queen Anne hesitated for a fraction of a second while Jane waited with bated breath for her to refuse outright.

Anne forced herself to smile.

"Of course, husband. Lady Jane must be tired from the strains of this mornings sewing."

The implied derision in the answer was completely lost on Henry who clapped his hands jovially together then offered one of them to Jane and without a backwards glance marched out of his wife's rooms.


	3. Chapter 3: A romantic love

Jane soon found herself in the rose garden of Whitehall with the King of England. The members of the court that were quick enough to snake behind them were dismissed by an impatient wave of the royal hand and a cheerful roar of, "Away!"

Tucking Jane's small hand into the crook of his arm, Henry proceeded to lead her at a stroll deeper into the rose garden.

"Tell me sweet mistress Jane, how is it that the finest rose in all England has escaped my attention for so long?"

Jane had been instructed by both her father and brothers when they had noticed the King riveted by the first glance of Jane in the Presence Chamber days ago. Her father, Sir John Seymour, had been mainly concerned for her welfare, knowing full well how Henry's affairs ended and had cautioned her against continuing. However, her brothers were ambitious and urged her to go only so far, always seeming to go forward, but never surrendering completely. Edward was the most ruthless of her two brothers and although Jane loved him as a sister should, she knew he would have no scruples in using her to advance himself.

"Your Grace is pleased to flatter me. I believe I am not as fine as the roses in this garden, let alone all England."

Henry chuckled warmly and patted her hand where it still rested on his padded arm.

"Oh, but you are my sweet Jane. Now tell me where you have been hiding all this time?"

"I have not been hiding anywhere, Your Grace," Jane shrugged delicately, "My families seat is Wolf Hall in Wiltshire, which is quite a way from the dazzle that is your court. My father wants me to be married to a suitable husband and has moved me and my brothers here to achieve fine matches for all of us."

When the King did not immediately answer with a teasing quip, Jane dared a peek at the royal visage and found his face puckered in a frown. As the silence lengthened, Jane realised they had reached the end of the garden, sheltered under a bower. As a pale pink rose petal fell from overhead and came to rest on her shoulder, Jane felt the King raising her chin with a ringed finger and stared up into his dark blue eyes that were full of a tenderness that she had never seen from any of the other men who had looked upon her with desire.

"My sweet Jane, you must tell me. Is there a man here at court you could love?"

Jane knew what he was asking. Knew that for him, the chase had begun. She now had one of two options. Take her fathers advice and escape now while she still could and go back to Wiltshire to wait for her father to broker a match with a member of the local gentry or do as Edward wanted. Use her beauty and wit to capture a powerful husband whilst keeping the King of England dangling. For a split second, Jane considered listening to her fathers voice that was urgently buzzing in her ear. But she remembered the crushing boredom of Wolf Hall and made her choice.

Twisting out of the King's light hold, Jane twirled away with an arch look back.

"My my, Your Grace, to ask such a personal question of a lady! I have been here but three days. One could not possibly form an attachment in such a short space of time."

Jane chanced a glance behind her as she stopped spinning. The King was looking down at something he held in his hand. As Jane moved closer, Henry raised his hand and brought it to his lips. It was the pink rose petal that had landed on Jane's shoulder a minute before.

Dropping down on one knee before her, Henry offered Jane the rose petal.

"My dear, sweet Jane. Let me assure you. The combined beauty of all of the roses in this garden could not compare to you! I want you to forget about marrying for the moment. Forget about all the other swains that plot to steal your heart and the poetry and trinkets that they will tempt you and your father with. Can you forget about them and the fact that I am King and learn to love me a little?"

Despite her decision of a few minutes ago, Jane was strongly tempted to slap the face that was gazing so guilelessly into her eyes, willing her to surrender. He was not free to confess this miraculous love that had apparently arisen from one sighting and this one false conversation. He had chosen the wrong girl if he expected her to melt and consent to his adultery and her ruin in the marriage stakes for one brief interlude that would end in her dismissal.

"Well now. What a pretty picture."

Jane's heart leap uncomfortably as the King dropped the petal into the dust, jumped up from his position at her feet and foolishly staggered sideways, almost loosing his balance. Jane turned and immediately sank into a curtsey, her eyes lowered in shame. Dull and dutiful as Queen Anne was, as a wife she could not have been less pleased to see her husband kneeling at the feet of one of her ladies like a lovelorn boy.

"Sweetheart!" bluffed the King, obviously hoping that this endearment would soften any harshness that might occur.

But he need not have worried.

"Lady Jane," said the Queen evenly as though nothing had happened, "How lovely you look among the roses."

Jane stood up and looked the Queen in the eyes which were frosty with disappointment.

"Thank you, Your Grace." Jane did not know how she continued to gaze at the Queen without flinching with remorse. Her brother Edward would approve of her stance she was sure. Brazen it out with the Queen, but be sure of the greater prize. The King might wait for a few months as the thrill of the chase took hold of him, but surrendering was not an option. At least not until every opportunity had been taken advantage of.

"Madam." said the King, all smiles. "I take my leave of you. The deer awaits and such sport will not wait forever, even for a King!"

Queen Anne just smiled at him.

With that, King Henry turned, ignoring Jane and called to the male courtiers that were in earshot, "To horse!"

The Queen also turned away but more sharply than her husband, her ladies following her, leaving Jane standing alone framed by a bower of pale pink roses.


	4. Chapter 4: The dress of promise

After the incident in the rose garden, it seemed to Jane that the King had forgotten her. It did not matter where she was in his company either attending the Queen or at mealtimes in the Great Hall, his dark blue eyes never swept her way. When two weeks had passed, Jane's brother Edward cornered her as she left the Great Hall after dinner. Grabbing her roughly by the arm, Edward propelled her into an alcove and all but slammed her back to the wall.

"What have you done to displease the King." he snarled in her face.

"I have done nothing brother. I just don't seem to please him anymore." said Jane testily, "I daresay he has found someone else to confess false love to."

Edward gave her a small shake and leaned closer.

"You had the King of England in the palm of your hand and you lost him."

"It wasn't my fault. The Queen came upon us in the rose garden whilst he was kneeling at my feet and asking me if I could learn to love him…"

"He said that!" asked Edward urgently, giving her another slight shake. "What did you say?"

"I could not say anything! The Queen came before I could utter a word. The look she gave me Edward. It was like cold disappointment that I would go the same way as all the rest." said Jane with a hint of tears in her voice.

"Now that's enough!" snapped Edward. He clenched his jaw and then sighed. "I knew it might be too soon to have the King fall for you. His infatuation with Bessie Blount and her son must be too fresh in his mind to face a dalliance with you. That and the Queen must have frightened him off you."

Jane's vanity was piqued. "Am I not as beautiful as that second rate whore, Blount?"

"But she has his son. It shows he is fertile if not by the Queen." said Edward thoughtfully, releasing Jane and rubbing his chin. "Maybe all the King needs is a push in the right direction, to forget all about mistress Blount. I shall fix it."

"But what are you going to do? All the world knows you can't push the King into anything." asked Jane fearfully.

Edward regarded her with amusement. "Surely you don't care for the King, Jane?"

"Not for him altogether." Jane said wryly, "But it's a foolish girl indeed who does not try for the prize. Who knows what my happen. In time, I am sure I will love the King wholeheartedly."

But as Edward laughed ambitiously and withdrew from the alcove, Jane opened her hand and revealed a dried pink rose petal.

"Who knows what my happen."

Several days later, Jane opened her chamber door after being dismissed by the Queen for the night and found a pale pink gown with matching hood embroidered with golden thread and swansdown sleeves. Jane moved forward and reached out a hand to stroke the rich fabric.

"I thought something simple would suffice."

Jane jumped and with her heart thudding loudly in her ears turned to see her brother propped against her wardrobe, arms folded.

"Simple!" Jane squeaked, "How much did this cost?"

"I meant a simple way to recapture the King's attention sister dear. What he needs is reminding of his love for you."

"What love?" said Jane tartly, "His so called love was called forth in a trice and dismissed just as easily."

"Now now, don't start being like your true self, my sweet. Remember, a King's love is worthless, it's no use pretending otherwise. There are other aspects to a King which are far more pleasing. Lets say gold, for instance." said Edward, leaving his post and sauntering smugly.

"And power, brother. Lots of power." Jane glanced up at Edward through her lashes.

Edward smiled and shook a finger mockingly at her. "Ah Jane, you _do_ learn fast. The court has persuaded you to grow up at last. Tell me, what scheme is it that I have in mind concerning the gown and His Grace?"

"Oh, that's easy. To remind him of our time in the rose arbour."

"Exactly."

The next night, Jane was late in following the Queen into dinner. At her final appearance, the Queen raised an eyebrow and regarded her coolly.

"Ah, Lady Jane. I knew you would look lovely in pink." was all she said.

Jane curtsied mutely and deliberately hung back in the line of ladies in waiting as Edward had instructed so that she was last and a little way apart from the rest. The line filed in front of the King, curtsying as they passed, Jane paused and sank down, spreading her skirts as she did so. After a few seconds, she rose and glanced flirtatiously up at the King, who was staring at her with his goblet of wine suspended halfway to his mouth.

Jane turned at caught Edward's smirk as she moved toward her seat. The dress had done it's work. She was back in the game.


	5. Chapter 5: The dye is cast

After dinner, there was dancing. Edward came over to partner her and Jane smiled as her brother led her through the graceful, swaying steps. The music was lively and when it finished, Jane was flushed, laughing and out of breath. She bobbed a curtsy to Edward and clapped along with everyone else. The Earl of Northumberland swept his feathered hat of his dark head and boldly asked her for the next dance.

"Why of course, my lord. I would be hon … " but Jane broke off as the Earl's attention was focused behind her.

She turned and saw the King smiling down at her. He held out his own hand to her without a word and she knew she could not refuse.

"Play a Gavotte!" the King bellowed up to the musicians high up in the minstrels gallery overhead. They obligingly struck up their instruments and Jane allowed herself to be towed further into the middle of the room, the King's hand on her waist.

Jane glanced up at the top table as the King bowed and she curtsied. The Queen watched them thoughtfully, as though the sight of her husband leading out one of her pretty maids in waiting was an interesting tableau rather than the obvious side courting of her husband and a potential new mistress.

"Well now Jane," said Henry, linking his hands with hers, "How fares my pretty little rose?"

Jane paused for a few seconds, hoping that her slight silence would show the King that she was displeased with his casual treatment of her.

"This rose seems born to blush unseen for Your Grace. I daresay there are many such roses."

This seemed to amuse the King, for he threw back his head and laughed joyously.

"How has this come to pass, sweet rose. Mayhap you are jealous of other roses?"

"No, Your Grace. Although you do have a rose in full bloom already." Jane again glanced at the top table, at the Queen who still observed them. The King followed her gaze and Jane saw his eyes soften. The he turned in the movements of the dance and she just caught a glimpse of boredom that was not related to the subject of their conversation.

"Ah yes, the Queen. But you see, some roses only seem to be blooming, but are really starting to fade."

Jane almost faltered in the steps. So, her suspicions were true. He was bored with the Queen, despite her being with his child!

"I see, so it is a new bud that you seek?"

The King smiled knowingly down at her.

"Yes." he said simply. She saw Edward nodding at them, ambition clear in his eyes and this made Jane bold.

"I am afraid that this bud is not on offer to anyone outside of marriage. My father has made it quite clear to me that he only expects me to hold out for marriage and not to fall prey to any rogue that takes an interest in me."

The King did not say anything. Jane thought that she might have gone to far. Ambitious, she and her brother might be, but unlike Edward, she did not plan to be another Bessie Blount. Jane had heard that evening that the King had arranged for his former mistress to be married off to a simple squire and to be buried in the countryside while the King's son was to be made Duke of Richmond and be separated from her in an establishment of his own. Jane shuddered in horror at having such a future thrust upon her by uncaring men who dismissed women from the sphere of their minds once their usefulness was at an end. Such a fate would not be for her.

"I would expect nothing less from a devoted father Jane, but love should not be denied whoever cupids arrow might strike. And my dear sweet rose, loves dart has pierced me and it has named you as my hearts desire."

Jane did not answer, she was too dumbfounded to think, let alone reply to this declaration of love from the King of England.

The steps of the dance separated them as the dancers changed partners for a moment before rejoining their original partners.

"You say nothing, my dear. Have I offended you?" the King asked as they went down the line of smiling courtiers, who were all straining to hear what was being said.

"Not exactly Your Grace. I only mean to be careful to avoid giving false hope where none can flower." said Jane, not daring to meet the King's eyes. "I am a true maid and you have had a wife these twenty years past. Neither of us are free to love."

The dance ended and as they bowed and curtsied to each other, the King leaned close and murmured, "Sweet Jane. A love such as mine will not be denied. Everyone can be bought for the right price, even your father. Just give me leave to speak with him and we can be together within the week."

Jane could not believe he could be so brazen. And with the Queen watching too. The Queen's unspoken judgment that Jane would end up used and discarded was threatening to come true if she did nothing to stop it. But how to stop it? An idea edged into the corner of her mind, an idea so huge it stole her breath with its treasonous audacity. But why not, she had nothing to loose. Suddenly, unbidden, an image rose in her mind of the block, shadowed by the headsman and his axe which slowly dripped blood. Her minds eye was clouding her real ones and only came out of the horror of her vision when she felt the King move her out of the area for dancing.

Her father and brother stepped forwards. Sir John's kind blue eyes were filled with worry at the sight of his daughter who had suddenly gone milk white on the dance floor. Edward, however seemed to not to notice as he took Jane's limp hand and drew her around so that she was facing the King, who looked very pleased with himself.

"A splendid dance, Your Grace, none can match you in anything it seems, except perhaps my dear sister." said Edward smoothly, surreptitiously giving the back of Jane's hand a pinch.

The pinch brought Jane's focus back completely. She forced herself to smile brilliantly at the King, while discreetly dragging her hand from Edwards cruel grip.

"Indeed, I declare I have never enjoyed a gavotte so much as this one." she said.

Instantly, the King face sobered and it showed itself almost like a green boy in its quest for adoration. "Do you mean that Jane?"

"As far as a maid can in the arms of a married man."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Edward give her sharp look which promised later retribution for her insolence. But this statement did not seem to displease the King, who had grown more sober still. His stance was thoughtful, but as he glanced up at the Queen, indecision crept over his features.

It was the Queen's belly he saw, thought Jane in alarm, I may be able to hold him at arms length for a time, but with the hope of a son still fresh, I cannot hope for salvation.

A moment later, Queen Anne stood up, ready to leave the fest for her bed. As the ladies in waiting stood up to accompany their mistress, Jane curtsied to the King, who still looked troubled.

"Goodnight, Your Grace."

King Henry suddenly seemed to realise that the court had stood up, taking their leave of his wife.

"Ah yes, goodnight, but we shall discuss this further some other time, Mistress Seymour, you may depend on it."

Jane could feel the King's eyes on her as she walked away to join the trail of ladies leaving with Queen Anne and as she helped direct the maids in the drawing of the Queen's bath, she wondered if the idea that had stolen still further into her mind was even possible or if the vision of the headsman and his bloodied axe foretold the consequences involved in the toppling of a rightful Queen.


	6. Chapter 6: Miscarriage of Justice

Jane had no opportunity to speak to the King again for almost a fortnight. Edward had become convinced that the King had lost interest for the second time.

"The Queen keeps me busy and when the King comes, there is always an excuse to send me away on an errand." said Jane irritably, when Edward cornered her in the same alcove off the Great Hall that he had dragged her to last time.

"So tarry awhile. Linger in the corridors. Drag your feet in the Great Hall. Do whatever it takes to speak to His Grace." Edward hissed "Don't just trot off whenever the Queen snaps her fingers. You have the attention of the King and well she knows it! She is trying to keep him off you so that he won't stray."

Jane shook her head at her brother.

"Only in part I think. I imagine she thinks she is being kind and protecting me from the advances of her husband as well as prevention. She knows as well as anyone how the King treats his women. At first they are the centre of his world, his only love, then poof." Jane clicked her fingers under Edwards nose, "He leaves them in the dust, discarded and shamed. Their marriage prospects ruined forever until they are foisted off on some ignorant squire who in gratitude buries them deep away until they are no more than a distant memory while the King jaunts off to find another ripe peach for the picking. Well, that _won't_ be me brother, I promise you."

Edward fell back in surprise as Jane's speech grew more passionate and her voice rose accusingly. He hitched a sly smile onto his face, folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

"Well, well. Dear sweet Jane won't be another Bessie Blount then will she? So how do you plan to break free of the King's vicious circle?"

Jane had not spoken to anyone about the idea that had come to be the only thing she thought about, day and night. She knew that Edward could only see so far as her being the next notch on the royal bedpost and a way for him to obtain power, titles and riches. There was absolutely no precedent for a commoner to use the King to push a rightful Queen off her throne.

Ironically however, it had been the Queen who had given Jane the idea of a way it could be done. But she would not say anything about it until she had sounded out the King in that matter.

"I think the King needs a new wife." she said evenly. "A younger wife with more possibility to give England its heir."

The look of incredulity on Edward's face was almost her undoing. He looked so comical that Jane was hard pressed not to laugh.

"You must be mad Jane. What you suggest is treason. The King can't marry you; he has his Queen."

Jane pushed roughly past him out of the alcove and turned to face the entrance to the Great Hall.

"He can, I assure you. A simple way and all it takes is a little push in the right direction. Had it not been for the Queen, I might never have found the answer at all."

As luck would have it, Jane managed to see the King the next day. The Queen's morning prayers had run late as she prayed earnestly that the child growing within her was a prince for England. The way back from the Queen's chapel went past Henry's Catholic one and as the ladies in waiting filed past the chapel door that the King looked up and saw Jane framed in the doorway looking lovely in Tudor green and white. The King liked to deal with state matters during time he was meant to be devout in chapel. It meant that he could enjoy other pursuits during his day. Henry gestured sheepishly to his papers that littered his lap and the accompanying councillors all turned to look at her. Jane saw many a lip twist disapprovingly, but she ignored them, focusing only on the King. A minute later, a note was passed from the King via the councillors into Jane's hand and the doors were closed by young pageboys.

_Meet me where the rose grows sweetest HR._

Jane headed straight for the rose garden. She dithered for a moment, trying to decide if she should change her gown or re do her hair, but she knew that the King could be there at any time and it would not do to keep him waiting. She did not have to wait long before he was there, sweeping his feathered hat off his head and bowing to her.

He did not wait until she was up from her curtsey. As Jane sank to the floor, Henry grabbed her under her elbows and hauled her into his arms.

"You Grace!" shrieked Jane, trying to fight him off. "What are you doing?"

"Only taking what is mine sweetheart!

"Don't you dare call me sweetheart. _That_ is what you call the Queen."

At the mention of the Queen, Henry released her slightly, but still kept hold around her waist while Jane's arms rested on the slashed velvet of his doublet.

"Oh Jane, do not let her come between us. She cannot come between our love. We were made for love you and I."

"Our love as you call it is not honourable. You have a wife and I my dignity and virtue. If you love me as you say you do, you would not ask me to give either up."

The King released her fully, turned and strode away a few steps, gnawing on a knuckle in evident frustration.

"This is a card no maid has played before. Make sure Jane that you do not play me." he pointed a threatening finger at her as his face darkened. "I will not have it. You should be grateful that I should condescend to have you. You are not a noble, I should be able to have you whenever and wherever I choose!"

Jane knew she must tread carefully. Edward had warned her that the King had a black temper when roused. Making a snap decision, she turned her back abruptly and forced herself to shake her shoulders in a storm of planned despair. After a moment, she felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"There, there." said the King stiffly, sounding awkward.

"I'm sorry Your Grace. I only resist for the sake of my virtue for it is all a maid has before she is married. Only chastity can prevent a woman from being totally corrupted. Please, please forgive me."

The hand moved and gripped her arm, gently bringing her round. Jane lowered her eyes and sniffed as the King scrutinised her face, looking for any sign of treachery. He seemed satisfied for his eyes softened and his hand slid round to her throat, the thumb raising her chin so that they were eye to eye.

"Aye sweet Jane. I forgive you for the love I bear you. But you must see how intolerable this is."

"I know, Your Grace. It pains me too." she whispered.

"Truly Jane?"

As Jane nodded mutely, the King brought his other hand to rest lightly on her neck as well.

"Such a pretty neck. Like a swan." he murmured, tilting her chin up with his thumbs so Jane had no choice but to bend her head back as Henry bent forward. His lips had barely brushed the hollow of Jane's throat when they both heard a strangled cry.

It was the Queen. She stared at them with a look of horror on her stricken white face. But horror quickly changed to acute pain as Queen Anne's pale hands suddenly clutched at her swollen belly in panic.

"Go Jane, just go!" the King shouted as he dashed toward his wife whose knees had started to buckle.

Suddenly terrified, Jane immediately fled down the path of the rose garden into the shadow of the Palace. At the door, she looked back, trembling as she heard the King bellowing for help; the Queen sobbing hysterically. The tears that stung Jane's eyes did not prevent her from seeing the bright trickle of blood that flowed steadily out from beneath the Queen's trailing grey silk skirts.


	7. Chapter 7: The need for an heir

The Queens rooms were shrouded in darkness; the drapes pulled across to shade the room from the brilliant sunshine that threatened to stream through the windows. Queen Anne was in no mood for the suns rays to invade the darkness that consumed her mind. She lay pale and wan upon her bed, her brain replaying over and over again, the events of the previous day.

Her husband and King had utterly betrayed her with one of her women; a pretty maid whose flawless face seemed to gloat smugly in the swimmings of her exhausted mind. Anne could still see Henry's wandering hands fastened on the graceful curve of the Seymour sluts neck and her apparent surrender which had seemed so sweet that Anne had to clutch at her coverlet to keep from screaming with jealousy. After all her efforts to keep them apart, they had still found the opportunity to meet. Anne remembered the shock at seeing the two of them together, entwined like the courtliest of lovers. Then the pain had begun. Great stabbing cuts that had made her want to vomit with the recognition of the signs. She had had miscarriages before, but none that were as gut wrenchingly real as this one which had come from nowhere. The blood had started to flow then, signalling the end of a life that she had filled with a kind of desperate hope. Now it was gone; taken away. It had been a boy. The physicians had come with their potions the day before and gone with her tears this morning. They had left her medicine to send her into a dreamless sleep, but the scene in the rose garden and the loss of her son had been too fresh in her mind; too painful in more ways than one to contemplate slumber.

Queen Anne would only allow her German ladies in waiting to attend her in her misery. One had been bathing her forehead with cool water, but when Anne saw the pink rose petals floating in the basin, a heartbroken fury such as she had never known before made her slap the bowl from her startled ladies hands as she screamed for her child. They had come with the sleeping potion then and she had slept dreaming of nothing until the first rays of sunlight had crept into her bedchamber and she had ordered the drapes closed.

The door opened and Anne raised herself on one elbow, ready to scream out the person who had dared to intrude on her grief without her permission. But it was only Henry. He came into the room with a face as hard as granite and a stance that would brook no opposition. Anne said nothing, hope that he had come to comfort her dying as swiftly as it had flared. She could only stare at him in a kind of horrified trance as Henry tried to swallow his rage. He began to stride this way and that, the skirts of his puffed ruby red coat who's hue matched Henry's face, swinging to and fro, darting livid looks at her. Finally he stopped and spoke, his back to her and his teeth clenched tight.

"You lost him. You lost my boy!"

Anne burst into tears. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked backwards and forwards, howling with misery while Henry continued to offer his back, unable to look at her. When she finished and looked up, his stance had not changed, although his hands were balled into fists so as not to turn and strike her in her bed. At this sight, Anne broke forth, her dull blue eyes fairly spitting with the rage and disappointment she had nursed since the loss of her child.

"It wasn't all my fault! You are as much to blame as anyone. This would _never_ have happened had you not been in heat with some bitch from this courtly kennel! It was the shock from seeing you wrapped around that Seymour slut! Because the love I bear you is so great, it broke my heart to see that you loved others." What had started in a scream, finished in a whisper as Henry turned, his face dark.

"You forget yourself madam! Do not you forget that it was in _your_ belly my son resided. Not mine." he pointed a threatening finger at her, "This was your doing and yours alone! _You_ lost him! This country's saviour!"

The silence that fell was ringing. Anne stared at Henry, sniffing copiously, lost for words. How could she convince her husband that the loss of their baby was no fault of hers?

Henry was breathing heavily with the effort to rein in his wroth. He straightened his coat and fixed his eyes to the bed hangings that were to the right of his wife's shoulder, his face hard granite again.

"Anne. I mean to have a divorce."

This was said so matter of factly, it made Anne gasp.

She looked up into Henry's face; so implacable … and began to laugh. It grew and grew until it was of hysterical proportions; tears streaking her face as she fought for breath at the absurd statement. After a while, she wiped her face with the bedclothes still chuckling breathlessly. But Henry's façade did not change and Anne fell silent, beginning to suspect he was not jesting with her.

"You … you … don't mean that Henry?" she said haltingly "There is no precedence … your church will never allow it… Why?"

Henry shifted uncomfortably, his face going from red to puce. His eyes moved down to the floor as he said, "Anne, the succession must be assured. I must have sons."

"But what about our daughter? What about Mary?"

"What about her?" snarled Henry looking back up at her. "A girl cannot rule a kingdom, everyone knows that. I must have sons. Only a man can rule this realm."

Anne slid painfully out of bed, her greying hair hanging down her back in a wild tangle, her eyes pleading as she crossed the room to her husband; one hand outstretched the other on her aching belly.

"Henry … I am your wife. We have one child. The rules of this realm dictates that your legitimate child is your heir. Why not Mary? Why not leave a Queen to succeed you?"

"There will be civil war if I do, Anne" bellowed Henry, shrugging off his wife's hand and striding to the window to look out unseeing to the gardens below. "I will have a divorce from you and there's an end to it!"

"_Never_!" Anne shrieked at his back, finally loosing her temper, "Do you think I will ever consent to this action? Do you think I will agree to you with the blessing of the church condemn me for a whore and our daughter a bastard!

Henry turned abruptly from the window, raising a threatening finger. "Enough madam. I must have sons for England and sons I _will_ have with your consent or no."

Anne gasped and began to shake her head violently, backing away incredulously. She saw Henry start toward her and she raised her hands, trying futilely to hold him off, but a curious red mist descended. The horror of what Henry was saying combined with the grief of loosing her child came crashing in on Anne and she backed into the bed as she began to scream and scream. She did not feel it when Henry grabbed her wrists trying to force them away from her apparent dive for his face and she watched through the red haze, though not really understanding as Henry's large hand raised and descended sharply. The force of the blow sent her reeling back onto the bed, the cries pouring from her mouth subsiding in gulps as she brought a trembling hand to her red cheek.

After a few moments where Henry straightened his puffed coat again, Anne tried to assemble her wits. Suddenly, the image of a gloating Jane Seymour floated to the forefront of her mind and Anne shuddered with the realisation.

"My God Henry! Tell me it isn't her? Tell me you don't mean to get rid of me to marry Mistress Seymour?"

Refusing to look at her, Henry turned to the door calling for one of the Queens ladies to attend her. He did not glance back or say anything as he left the room after a squat German maid entered at his bellow, but Anne did not need to have him say a word or give her a look more. Anne had her answer.


End file.
